


Team Rose

by Jackmour



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Bromance, Cup Final, England (Country), England Champion Well Who Could, FIFA World Cup 2018, First Kiss, Kisses between "friends", M/M, Say No To Racism, deledier, wtf?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackmour/pseuds/Jackmour
Summary: _ "Because Eric Dier (not) was around. "- Tottenham Hotspur's official Tweet about Dele Alli and his mobile barrier training dummy.





	Team Rose

**Author's Note:**

> WTF?

_"It's a bit more than a bromance I think" - **Christian Eriksen.** _

_ Dele prepare for a corner kick, while his team-mates form what I would call a little train in the big area. - ITV Sports commentator narrated under the apprehension of the English fans, facing the grand final of the World Cup in Russia. In the background, it was possible to hear the songs and passionate cries of both twisted; the meeting of two seas - red and white, their respective Russians and Englishmen. Whose few who did not belong to them, marking presence with their foreign flags, waved to one or the other Selection. No wonder it was the biggest sporting spectacle in the world, just behind the Olympics.

The players in turn were clearly tired, with their nine, eleven kilometers run during the match. Despite the mild weather, sweat dripped down their faces, and under their uniforms they spat against the grass battered by their boots. In short, they would have their thighs and calves fucked. However, the Englishmen could not care less, they were ready to run into the embrace by scoring the corner as they lifted the Cup.

A few minutes and the referee would whistle the whistle, with the score of 2x0 for England, "End of game" they would shout "We are two world championships”. Certainly, the dream of any of those stick legs.

Dele looked at the ball under his feet and the players standing in the big area, the Russian keeper shouted orders to his team "right, right, here", gesturing incessantly. At the same time, the house owners struggled to score them, sometimes extrapolating with their tugs in the _Team Rose_ 's shirt or exaggerated hugs.

_ At any moment the second goal can come out. - added the commentator with expectation.  
  
_ It is a dangerous ball, the _Three Lions_ must be prepared for this throw. - pointed the man on his side, updating the information on the competition, with an air of curiosity in saying - The 1st VAR Cup is marked by having almost half the goals with balls stopped.

_ It takes a lot of technical quality for this and that is what we can see here under the command of Gareth Southgate. - punctuated, interrupting himself suddenly so as not to lose the game - The referee whistles. - he flutters in anticipation, followed by a strange pause between the commentators - Wait, does there seem to be some sort of discussion? - he said with a bit of skepticism, pressing the headset into his ear so he could hear what they were saying at their point. - Apparently, some fans offended Dele Alli, which bothered him.- he explained minimally to the audience, equally intrigued by the sudden commotion.

In the field, Dele faced the rival crowd looking rightly at him, disturbed. As if he demanded that they repeat what they said, not just behind his back; if they even had the job of cursing him in English, instead of their native language, the Russian, that he would not understand and would go unnoticed. But they wanted to be noticed.

“Back to Africa"  
  
"Monkey"  
  
They could not speak English genuinely, but he was not deaf, much less naive.

The anger could easily consume him, causing him, recklessly, to strike head-on with the opposing fans. He would not let it go blank, nor would he accept what the newspapers would later call misunderstanding -misunderstanding was the hell; How many times had he been forced to hear that?!

Dele felt a hand squeeze his shoulder from behind, pulling it to her with some need.

_ Dude, look at me! Look at me. - Dele might have deliberately ignored the notes of almost desperation in his friend Eric Dier's voice, the blond who insisted on turning him around. forcing him to finally obey him, his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them tightly - Do not care what those shits said. - he demanded, staring at him.

_ You heard what they said! - he accused. Only then, hearing his own voice, did Alli realize that he was surely on the verge of tears. How could he not do it even if Matuidi did it in a similar situation? Damn, how unfair it was, half country believing in him, and yet his color was even more important than the talent in his feet.

_ And since when do you listen to this!? - he demanded. Finally, Dele raised his head to the other man's height, the lament stuck in his throat, unable to answer him properly. He felt the tears grow when he felt comforted, feeling that, well, someone cared. His light features never hid what he felt.

Eric did not hesitate to see his friend and club mate and National Team, on the verge of a crisis. How desperate it was for both of them.

Holding Alli's face in his hands, he stole a kiss from her. Chaste and fast, but not fast enough in russian opinion. Dele looked at him, still in his hands, confused and warm. Eric smiled too. Damn, how he loved that guy!

The English companions around them, agglomerates tried to soften what happened, but it was not surprising that they received the kiss, in a way they waited for that. Maybe when they raised the Cup, moved by emotion, or by pure provocation. It was no wonder they jokes in Tottenham and the english press with the idea that they were both a couple.

While three russian players exchanged altered dialogue with the referee, others spread across the pitch, going out of the mess. They could not and would not take sides.

 _'Beyond of monkey, they were fagots',_ somewhere to background they could hear.

There would be no greater affront against Russia Putin.

Eric with his arm around the younger man's shoulders, whispered something in his ear and smiled. Then following Dele’s gaze on, well, how would you say exactly that? Your teammates who were...? Kissing?...

…

_ Ahhh, what a sight of the hells! - Dele complained, squeezing his eyes tightly and shaking his head as if to scare away the images that formed in his mind. Lying in his twin bed as he listened to the frightening and _dubious_ story of his friend Eric, who shared the room with him, somewhere far away in the Repino district of St. Petersburg in a three-star hotel.

_ But talk there, could, could not it? - Eric asked expectantly, standing next to the bed of the brown¹, getting dressed; fresh out of the bath, without any problem in to be naked in front of his friend or as he himself would say: partner of crime.

_ You're walking with those guys of the France, are not you? - he asked with mocking accusation, his arm under his head and his pillow, in which with the right hand held his own cell phone, connected to the wifi closed under the password "Russia2018" - Well they say that depending on the time, they cut to both sides. - he teased, holding back her laughter as Eric showed her middle finger. He scornfully rebuked him falsely. He laughed at his friend, holding back only when Eric threatened to advance on him. Sure enough, Dele did not need a guy his size -but still heavier than he, naked on top of him while he tried to hang him - Just puts his pink shorts on and off the light. - but could not avoid a little provocation, after all, it was pink, yes that shorts!

_ What? he asked with false naivety. Do you want to try the French kiss? - alluding to the request to turn off the lights; It was past twenty-three’clock, they were sure that they were tired and sleepy, but, ah! how could they live without their exchanged taunts?

_ Fuck off, Dier. - he cursed, exaggerating a face of nausea for fun, his best friend was probably some kind of lunatic pervert, worse; than did not shuts up - Get out! If I were going to kiss a guy, I would kiss Kane who is prettier.  
  
"You're fucked up when I tell this to the captain tomorrow”. - he announced with triumph, laughing at his friend's face, lying down on his belly and being likewise followed by it.  
  
His breathless laughter filled the room.  
  
In fact, they were two siamese lunatics.

**Author's Note:**

> ¹ Would be something like "brown" (mulatto) on my tongue, but it has no exact translation into English.
> 
> Sorry for any mistake, it's my first fanfic in English. English is NOT my language, nor my second language, but if everything works out I want  
> to translate others 20 fanfics haha. Any mistake please let me know so I can to arrange, this will help me in the next translations.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed.  
> Speak what you found! ;)
> 
> I love that shorts pink of the Eric, our fashion icon! Hahaha
> 
> Team Rose - 2018 - Jackmour ©


End file.
